


The Words Are Written In the Air

by wasp



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bullying, F/M, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Step brothers!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasp/pseuds/wasp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam’s only ten, two years since he’s mother passed, when his dad remarries and he’s introduced to Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Words Are Written In the Air

Liam’s only ten, two years since he’s mother passed, when his dad remarries and he’s introduced to Louis. Of course, Louis is the life of the party. He walks his mum down the aisle and threatens Liam’s dad about the consequences if he _hurts_ her when he reaches him. The audience titters and coos even though Louis’ being completely serious. He dances with Liam’s nan during the reception, spinning her around by standing on his tippy-toes and he even gives a toast, sipping at champagne even though he’s only two years older than Liam. After the exhausting day, filled with smiling for the photographers and making sure he doesn’t get any grass stains on himself, Louis turns to Liam with an oddly quiet smile that reaches all the way to his warm blue eyes.

He holds out his hand, spits in it and then offers it to Liam.

“We’re proper brothers now, hermano,” he says and Liam’s only ten but he can still tell the difference between this smile and the one he’d pulled for the cameras. So Liam only grimaces slightly and spits into his palm like Louis and brings their hands together.

Their hands squelch unpleasantly and Liam thinks of how fast he can run to the bathroom to wash it off. But Louis shakes their hands together like they’re playing at being adults and continues to smile at him like _that_.

“I was trying to sneak the cake knife away so we could be blood brothers but your dad caught me,” Louis says and sighs in disappointment, still gripping at Liam’s hand.

Liam wriggles his slick hand out of his grip and can’t help but think, that’s right, _my dad_ because it’s better than to think of the way Louis keeps saying brothers and the weird feeling in his stomach.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Louis asks, pulling at his own tie in an attempt to get comfortable.

The last thing Liam wants Louis to think of him is boring, it matters for some reason, so he opens his mouth to snap at him – he talks just the right amount thank you very much, just because he doesn’t feel the need to prattle on insistently like some people who can’t keep their mouth shut for longer than two seconds. He barely parts his mouth to get this all out when Louis slaps him on the shoulder and runs off to try his hand at DJ-ing. Liam gapes at him, disappointment blooming in his stomach because he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to say that to him anyway.

~

He’s fourteen and suddenly his legs and arms aren’t coordinated and he’s tripping over like he’s a few sizes too big. He’s not used to it yet and he’s uncomfortable under his expensive school blazer. The material scratches at his neck and he wishes he could take it off already but he’s required to keep it on to and from school.

Louis doesn’t have to go to the stupid posh private school with the leather shoes and the endless traditions and expectations. Instead, Liam watches him leave for school with his button-down shirt split open, tie flung carelessly around his neck and doing a truly shit job at keeping the bruises and bites against his collarbones hidden.

Liam’s walking home by himself and it’s not Niall’s fault he has a doctor’s appointment after school. In any case, Liam ends up walking down the pavement alone. It’s not like he had been expecting it, dreading it with every waking minute or anything. He’d just been walking with his eyes glued to the ground as always when a broad shoulder crashed into him and sent him sprawling.

“Watch where you’re going fucktard,” the older boy snarls and Liam doesn’t look up for a moment, feels dread curl and spread in his stomach. He mumbles a quick sorry but David’s already smiling gleefully down at him, cruelty cutting into the edge of his smile.

“What was that?” he says harshly and when Liam looks up, two of his friends have come to join him.

They’re all older and bigger than Liam and he doesn’t see a way out of his. Liam bites at his bottom lip and feels the stinging of his palms, scratched raw against the concrete

“I said I’m sorry,” Liam says and he glares up at them, hates them so fucking much because this was supposed to stop when he told his teachers.

It only did, really, because Niall had been there to witness it one time and he’d stood up for Liam, his size deceiving of his abilities. Liam just hadn’t thought it was going to happen again after that.

The boys laugh in delight and haul Liam up by the lapel of his blazer.

~

Liam limps the rest of his way home, wincing with every step. He manages to sneak into the house without anyone noticing and the relief that spreads over him lasts until Louis wanders into his room. He’s laughing at something on his phone, looking up to ask Liam if he’d seen his phone charger and immediately stops short at the sight of Liam.

"What the fuck happened?" he demands straight away, striding towards Liam. His hands fly up to tilt his face to the side carefully, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger to check out the bruises starting to form against the side of his face. He hisses in sympathy and Liam blinks, wonders when he got so close to his face.

"Nothing," Liam says and tries to push him off, averting his eyes because he can’t seem to match Louis wide worried ones.

"Nothing my arse, Liam, you're bloody black and blue," Louis says, tightening his grip on Liam's face.

When he forces Liam's chin up to look him in the eye, he looks the angriest Liam's ever seen him. His eyes soften when he rubs the pad of his thumb against the tender skin and Liam winces.

"Was it Smithson again?" he asks and Liam sighs, doesn't ask how he knew who it was in the first place.

"It's nothing, just mind your own business, Louis," Liam says and pushes his hand off his face.

Louis just looks at him for another moment, lips tight, his fists clenched by his side. He turns around and pretty much stomps out as maturely as a sixteen year old can and Liam lets out a sigh of relief.

~

A week passes and Niall sticks close to his side after apologising profusely. Liam doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve Niall but he reckons he’d rather keep Niall than to have a hundred friends. The boys who bullied Liam come to school the next week and they’re all sporting darkened bruises and a grimace. They come up to Liam, fidgeting restlessly when they try to apologise, the words being pushed past their lips reluctantly. Niall only raises an eyebrow at him in confusion but he still looks mildly impressed at whatever happened but that might just be his default expression.

When Liam goes home, Louis asks him if anything _interesting_ happened at school today and he has this pointed, pleased grin plastered all over his face. Liam doesn’t say anything, stomps past him lounging on the couch and slams the door to his bedroom. He bangs his head against the wood of the door, instantly regretting it when pain shoots through his forehead, the side of his face still relatively tender. He squeezes his eyes shut because _he doesn’t need this_ \- not now or never.

Louis’ just looking out for him, like – like an older brother would. But that makes Liam’s stomach curl unpleasantly so he tries to push it out. He doesn’t need Louis to protect him, he’s not a child - he can take care of himself.

Liam asks his dad if he can start taking boxing lessons, babbles on about fitness and health as if that’s the sole reason and of course his dad’s over the moon. He buys Liam the best equipment and everything, pleased Liam will stop staying cooped up in his room doing whatever he does on his laptop.

The thing is, he doesn’t want Louis to fight his battles for him, it leaves him just a little bit breathless and aching inside for all the _wrong_ reasons and the last thing he needs is for this thing he has for/against Louis to be blown way out of proportion.

~

But sometimes, like on his mother’s birthday or the day she passed, Liam crawls into Louis’ bed and Louis curls around him protectively and doesn’t ask questions. He pets Liam’s hair until he falls asleep, doesn’t mention the wet patches on his pillows and makes him peanut butter batter pancakes for breakfast.

~

Their parents go out of town for the weekend for a hotel’s retreat or something and they leave Louis in charge. Liam’s fifteen and he can take care of himself thanks – he’s not going to have Louis _babysit_ him. He’s barely seventeen anyway; it’s not like he can do much to take care of Liam. He tells as much to Louis who only laughs and ruffles his hair in that infuriating way, agreeing with him.

“Oh, Liam, you’d probably end up taking care of me,” he says and smiles brightly, resting his hand at the nape of his neck.

Liam ducks his head, moving away from Louis’ heat and blames the heavy summer air for the blush starting to rise on his cheeks.

“You’re going to get into so much trouble if you get caught,” Liam says, shaking his head as he watches Louis roll in the keg. He doesn’t know where he’s got it from and actually, he’d like to plead plausible deniability or whatever so he’s not going to ask.

“ _If_ I get caught,” Louis says rolling his eyes, “don’t be a party pooper!” He saunters over to Liam and drapes himself all over him to show he’s not entirely serious and blows a raspberry against his cheek.

Liam tries to act disgusted, wiping at his cheek and pushing him away but he can’t hide his smile fast enough. Louis smiles back at him, one of the quiet, overly fond ones in return. It’s easier for Liam’s smile to slide off his face because there are times when Liam wishes Louis _wouldn’t_. And really, it isn’t his fault and Liam can’t really blame anyone but himself – just, it would help if Louis wasn’t _Louis_ because Liam would be able to stop anytime if it was anyone but Louis.

“You’re not gonna tell on me, are you?” Louis asks, pulling his phone out of his back pocket after a brief struggle. That’s what he gets for wearing those trousers.

Liam has to look down at his shoes because the fact of the matter is, _no,_ he wouldn’t ever and isn’t that the problem here? Louis doesn’t notice how Liam goes all quiet or pretends anyway, picking up his phone when it starts playing that one Bieber song Liam’s going to have in his head for the rest of the week. “HAZ!” he shouts into the mouth piece, grin splitting his face open, like sunshine’s going to start pouring out any second or some other poetic shit.

~

Liam invites Niall over so he won’t have to stay locked up in his room while their house gets trashed. He knows he’s going to be on clean-up duty tomorrow and Louis will make him pancakes to make up for it but he’s going to feel bitter and sad about it because _he can_.

The two of them escape into the TV room, closing the door firmly behind them to shut out the thumping music and drunken shouts in the background.

“You’re not having any – you’re underage for Pete’s sakes,” Liam says in regards to Niall’s silent question.

“Well then we’re not watching Toy Story again,” Niall says, getting up to flick through the DVDs.

Liam is well on his way to protest, opening his mouth indignantly because they watched The Notebook last time and that was definitely on Niall (even after he put on that whole show of finding it already in the DVD player). But the door opens abruptly and Liam peeks over the arm rest of the couch to see who it is and maybe to shout at them to go away because this is his house too. Except he can recognise Louis anywhere and he looks _really_ nice, like when he sneaks out at night to go to his friend’s parties, winking at Liam as he jumps out the window.

“Brought you something,” Louis says and there’s a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on one hand and two bottles of beer in the other. He almost trips on the way to the coffee table and Liam reaches out cautiously.

“We’re only fifteen,” Liam says but it’s too late, Niall’s already taken both the bottles off him. Liam only catches Niall’s ‘cheers’, the rest of his sentence directed at Louis getting lost because Louis wearing that stuff that smells really good and Liam’s having trouble focusing.

“You’re brothers pretty cool, mate,” Niall says in a mock whisper, saluting Louis with his bottle. He splays out on the sofa next to Liam, slinging his leg over Liam’s lap.

“He’s not my brother,” Liam says and it’s not entirely under his breath. He just needs to remind himself, remind everyone else too. Louis pretends he hasn’t heard but the muscles in his arms are tense when he sets the bowl of popcorn down.

“Have fun with your little movie date,” Louis says cheerfully enough when he shuts the door behind him.

“Huh?” Niall asks through a mouthful of popcorn and Liam just shakes his head, presses play and leans back on the couch.

It’s not like he was trying to be mean or hurtful. But Louis – he’s _not,_ he’s not his brother.

Of course when Liam runs upstairs halfway through Toy Story to grab his laptop – Niall had insisted Liam watch some video and he’s only vaguely worried about what it actually is – he almost trips over a drunken couple groping on the staircase and breaks his neck. When he finally does stumble into his room, he stops dead in the doorway because they’re on _his_ bed and that is just so fucking unnecessary right now.

“Oh shit,” Louis says, laughing breathlessly as he scrambles off Harry. He pulls his hand out of his trousers, trying to do his own fly one-handed and they’re both pushing at each other, giggling slightly and Liam wonders if he could just fall down the stairs.

Liam knows Harry, he’s _always_ around after all but he didn’t know this was what was happening behind closed doors. So he just stands there like an idiot, gaping at the both of them. He can tell Louis’ drunk because he’s got that easy smile on his face, the one he always wears when he comes home from a party and he thinks he’s being stealthy, talking way too loud and getting handsy and affectionate. Usually, Louis’ mum just smiles fondly at him a bit, rolling her eyes when she makes eye-contact with Liam as if it’s a secret between them. Liam usually puts a glass of water on his bedside table before he goes to bed.

“Didn’t realise this wasn’t my room, I was a bit, uh, preoccupied,” Louis says and he has enough sense to look sheepish. Liam wants to jump out the window because even in this situation his brain’s telling him it’s quite becoming on him. “C’mon Harry, I’ve got a proper sized bed and everything,” Louis calls out, widening his eyes comically and wriggling his eyebrows. He grabs Harry’s hand and hauls him off the bed, knocking their hips together with drunken ease.

Harry only giggles at him, tumbling off the bed and into Louis’ ready arms. “Sorry,” he says to Liam but he’s grinning widely, lips swollen and looking very pleased with himself. Liam can’t exactly blame him.

“Sorry,” Louis repeats after him, already being tugged out of the room by Harry’s insistent hands. “Don’t be traumatised or whatever, okay?” he says when he brushes past Liam. It’s worse that Liam can see him up-close now, to see more than the arch of his back in the semi-darkness, because his lips are awfully pink and the flush is riding high on his cheeks, his pupils blown and heavily lidded.

Louis reaches out a hand to shuck Liam’s chin, finally letting Harry pull him out of the room. Liam can hear them giggling down the hallway, thumping into the walls because they apparently can’t seem to keep their hands off each other the few metres down the hallway. The door to Louis’ room is kicked open and shuts with a slam behind them.

Liam stands there in the middle of his room, laptop completely forgotten on the edge of his desk, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. He only startles out of it when Niall bounces up the stairs, shouting a ‘sorry!’ when he stomps on someone’s hand and bursting into his room. For a second, Liam entertains the thought it might be Louis again but then Niall’s hair catches in the light from outside streetlights when he strides forward.

“What the fuck, mate, you’ve been here for like twenty minutes. You missed your favourite part,” Niall says, walking past Liam to throw himself on Liam’s bed. He looks up at Liam, hugging his pillow to his chest like he belongs there.

“Let’s get drunk,” Liam says instead, turning around to try and smile at Niall. He has to take a step back, eyebrows tilting in amusement when Niall all but springs off the bed, punching his first in the air.

After he gets Niall on board, it’s easy to sneak alcohol from the older kids, no-one asks questions or tries to stop them. Liam has no idea what he’s drinking but he’s chugging it down until his head starts spinning madly and he thinks he’s going to vomit all over himself. Niall is apparently a lot better at holding his drink and the last time Liam’s seen him, he was laughing uproariously with a group of people. But then, he’s never needed any help making friends.

Liam doesn’t lift his head, just vaguely sees a human-shaped thing settle in front of him, elbows resting on his knees. When did he slide down this wall? Liam tries to lift his head from his chin and only manages a couple of centimetres before he’s pulling a face from the effort.

“Jesus, Liam, you alright?” the familiar voice pushes through the haze in his head and when Liam finally lifts his head to get a look at him, there’s two of Louis for some reason and just way too many stripes for him to comprehend.

“Uhh,” Liam says, drawing it out, “no. I – I think I’m drunk?” Liam says, squinting up at him because all of a sudden it’s just too bright, blinding, actually.

Louis laughs quietly and Liam thinks that sounds nicer than anything has any right to sound. He runs his hand through his messy hair and all Liam can see is Harry’s long fingers tangled at the nape of his neck. He feels like he’s going to vomit. He must’ve said that out loud because the next thing he knows, Louis’ hands are on him, gently coaxing him up.

“C’mon, darling,” Louis says and helps Liam stand up, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Liam’s very confused and almost trips over someone as Louis leads him back inside the house. He vaguely remembers warning Niall against jumping into the pool just because he didn’t have any swimmers.

“Niall,” Liam says weakly, turning his head to see if he’s still alive somewhere.

“He’s alright, pet, sleeping it off on the couch,” Louis says while Liam’s squeezing his eyes shut at the dizzy spell making his stomach churn dangerously. Louis’ hand feels abnormally warm against his side but then so does Louis.

They only just get to the toilet in time and Liam notes the walls are spinning in a definitely unpleasant manner before he’s leaning clutching at the bowl of the toilet. He heaves out the contents of his stomach and he wants to die just a little bit because he didn’t sign up for this. He still can’t concentrate on one thing so he goes back to vomiting.

“It’s okay,” Louis says, running a comforting hand up and down his spine.

Liam thinks about pushing him away because this is just _really_ gross and he’d rather not have Louis witness this but then he’s too busy to reply. He still feels like he should apologise for effectively ruining Louis’ night but then he squeezes the back of his neck with a warm, reassuring hand and he promptly forgets about it.

Louis mumbles something about a glass of water and starts to get up, thumbing the skin behind Liam’s ear in warning.

Before he can stop himself, Liam reaches out, fisting his hand in Louis’ shirt. “Don’t go,” he says hoarsely, his reddened eyes squeezed shut.

“Alright,” Louis says and settles back down. “I’m not going anywhere.”

~

It doesn’t make it any better, Liam knows this, it doesn’t make it any better that Louis’ not _really_ his brother because it’s still wrong and leaves a horrid taste in Liam’s mouth. Still, he can’t make it just go away – it’s not like he’s not tried, sometimes it feels like he spends every waking moment trying. He just has this sense of guilt clawing at his stomach and whenever he corrects someone and says, “He’s not my brother,” or pulls away from Louis, Louis gets this look on his face, the corners of his mouth pulled tight and tense.

Liam promises himself that it’s all going to be fine, he’s going to fix whatever’s sick and wrong inside him and everything will be _fine_. Except, no, he expected he’d grow out if it and he’s sixteen and still catches himself staring at Louis’ lips around the spoon, milk dribbling down his chin and god that should be disgusting, it really should. Louis wipes his chin, throwing his head back to laugh at whatever Saturday morning cartoon is on and Liam sinks down into the couch a little bit more, tucks his toes further away from Louis.

“Hey, earth to Liam!” Louis says, waving his hand in front of Liam’s face.

Liam raises an eyebrow at Louis and says, “Do I need to go get you a bib or just feed you myself?”

Louis laughs again and chucks his spoon at Liam’s head. Liam dodges it ignores the way Louis’ demanding he be fed now and does _not_ childishly say, “Why don’t you call your boyfriend to do it?”

(He does).

~

Liam didn’t think he was capable of so much _hate_ but then he’d never met Louis’ dad before.

Louis gets a phone call during dinner and comes back bright-eyed and excited. He tells his mum that it’s just Harry and continues on with dinner and Liam doesn’t mention his knuckles bleached white around his fork and how he doesn’t make any jokes about meatballs for the rest of the night.

Afterwards, Louis tip-toes into his room and shuts the door behind him quietly. Liam makes a show of blinking blearily, rubbing at his eyes to show he hasn’t been waiting up for him in any way shape or form. He lets go of the rubber band around his wrist, the one he’s been pulling every now and then to keep himself awake and watches Louis stumble in with dark-adjusted eyes.

“Liam, you awake?” Louis whispers, groping blindly in the dark.

“Mmhm,” Liam says after a pause, anticipating bubbling in his stomach because something’s happened and Louis’ telling him _first_.

There’s almost no warning before Louis throws himself on the bed, landing on top of Liam in a tangle of elbows and knees. Liam huffs out a laugh breathlessly, clutching at his ribs. He shuffles over to give Louis some space, flattening himself against the wall inconspicuously as possible.

Louis breaks the silence with, “My dad called.”

When Liam turns his head to catch a glance of him, Louis’ looking straight up at the ceiling with his hands clasped over his sternum. Liam looks up at the ceiling too because it feels like he shouldn’t be staring (it always feels like he shouldn’t be staring).

“Oh?” Liam asks because Louis’ quiet and he sounds different, almost vulnerable.

“Yeah. He wants to meet up with me on Saturday,” Louis says and when Liam darts his eyes towards him again, he catches the edge of Louis’ brilliant smile in the dark.

“That’s great. Did he say why?” Liam asks, keeping his voice casual as possible but it ends up too cautious.

“Does he need a reason? I’m his son,” Louis says, his tone on the edge of snapping into the defensive.

Liam knocks their elbows together and shifts closer to show that he’s on his side – he’s _always_ going to be on his side.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Liam says quietly and a sense of foreboding spreads dreadfully all over his body till he has to curl his toes hard and press his finger tips into his own arms. He doesn’t say anything though, just lays there with Louis and promises not to tell his mum.

Liam knows exactly where to find him when his parents are on the verge of hysteria and every single one of his friends have been called up. He rushes into the woods behind the cluster of shops in town, the branches snagging at his clothes and scratching his skin. Liam stops dead in front of Louis, crouched against a tree in the clearing with his head in his arms.

Hatred like Liam had never felt before courses through his vein because _he_ got Louis’ hopes up and in the end he always lets him down. Liam thinks nobody should get to treat Louis like that – especially not that fucking dick. Because Liam can’t see how anyone wouldn’t love Louis, or can’t see how amazing he is.

He forgets his carefully thought out rules and throws his arms around Louis and holds onto him until he stops shaking like that. Liam takes him home, hands clasped tightly together and when Louis pulls him into another hug outside their house, Liam doesn’t let go.

When he whispers, “Love you,” quietly in his ear, Liam replies, “Love you too.” And doesn’t think of how these words are so _different_.

~

It’s inevitable but Liam’s still not entirely sure how it happens when he gets dragged into a game of football. As soon as he jumps off the fence, trailing after Louis and towards his friends, he knows this is a bad idea and he’s mentally slapping himself in the face for never being able to say ‘no’ to Louis and his stupid persuasive smile. But then Louis claps him on the back, the ball clutched under his arm and beams at him like Liam’s saved a billion puppies from a burning building and not just agreed to even out the numbers.

“Get ready to have your arse handed to you, Payne,” Louis says and throws the ball at Liam’s head.

Of course, Liam reacts instinctively – forcing Niall to play football well into the night in an effort to clear his head for about three weeks now does that to a person. He steps backwards swiftly, catches the ball on his chest, letting it fall to his knee then to the upturn of his feet easily enough. He doesn’t have time to feel pleased with himself because Louis’ fingers are clutching at the hem of his shirt and he’s pulling it over his head in one swift move.

“You’re shirts,” he says and runs off, tucking his grass-stained shirt into the waistband of his trousers.

Liam’s mouth as gone abruptly dry and he has to swallow a couple of times and actively remember how his hands and feet moved before all of the tanned skin and _hipbones_. And the thing is, Liam’s not a bad player, he’s quite good in fact but Louis keeps jostling into his side and his skin’s all warm from the sun and flushed from exertion and he _won’t_ keep his hands to himself. Liam loses the ball once again trying to dodge a pinch to his nipple (he doesn’t even fucking succeed), another when he sidesteps a pinch to the side and pretty much kicks the ball across the field to the opponent in surprise when Louis pinches his _arse_.

“Shit, sorry,” Liam says, turning to his teammates with what he hopes is an apologetic and not an I’m-going-to-burst-out-of-my-skin or tackle-Louis-to-the-ground-and-stick-my-hand-down-his-pants face.

Harry only laughs and shakes his head, curls flying into his eyes and says, “Lou’s a filthy player.” He follows this up with a lewd grin and actually wriggles his eyebrows. Liam smiles tightly at him and turns around because _of course he would know._

He needs to focus on something else and it shouldn’t be this hard. Louis does have extraordinarily fit friends like the one off to the side, phone in his hand, half-heartedly playing the game. He hasn’t seen Zayn before but he likes the way he smiles, all slow and lop-sided. Zayn raises an eyebrow at him when he realises Liam’s staring and so Liam smiles back, anything’s better than watching Louis jump on Harry’s back and start biting his neck.

~

It’s not Zayn he’s thinking about at night though, curled in on himself slightly as he fucks into his own fist, trying to muffle his heavy breathing into the pillow because thin walls and even thinner doors. He comes with a gasp, spilling come all over his fingers; eyes squeezed shut at the thought of someone else’s hand stroking over his dick.

Liam cleans himself up with the tissues he keeps on the bedside table, biting hard enough on his bottom lip to have blood seep through. He grimaces at the hot flash of disgust that rests at the base of his stomach and tries to go to sleep.

~

From then on it gets even harder, quite literally according to some parts of Liam’s anatomy, and Liam wonders if he could move out and sleep on the streets just so he won’t have to deal with this anymore. Because Louis continues to be _Louis_ and the more Liam pulls away from him, the more outrageous he gets. He goes from cuddling up to him on the couch, pushing cold fingers under his t-shirt to tackling him at random, biting at his nipple through his shirt and making Liam’s hips buck up dangerously.

He thinks it’s for the best to avoid Louis entirely. It’s not exactly easy to squirm away from Louis but then he remembers how much Louis would _hate_ him if he knew and it gets easier to jump apart from him immediately. It’s not dignified but neither is anything about this situation. Louis stops getting all huffy and offended, redoubling his effort to get closer to Liam to be contrary.

But then even Louis must have limits because he does start to leave him alone bit by bit. Liam doesn’t know which gods to thank but then soon enough he’s cursing them all because he finds himself _missing_ Louis.

There’s not enough late-night football sessions to unfuck this clusterfuck of a situation.

~

It’s only Niall’s insistent badgering that finally gets Liam to relent and, really, it’s not that sad Liam hasn’t gone to a party in over two years. He hasn’t been drunk since he was fifteen and he hopes to keep it that way. Niall obviously has other plans because he’s enthusiastically ushering Liam through the door with a promising grin.

Niall’s not even a bad friend, on the contrary he’s the greatest fucking friend Liam could ask for but he leaves Liam by himself as soon as they enter the room and Liam vows not to buy him fish and chips for a week. He appears out of the crowd soon enough, cheeks ruddy already and laughing loudly. He shoves a cup of god knows what into Liam’s hand.

“Have fun, mate,” Niall says and before Liam can roll his eyes, he’s gone again.

Liam puts all his effort into remembering if he always stood this awkwardly and what on earth he was supposed to be doing with his other hand. It’s only halfway through the hour that Liam realises that he doesn’t really recognise the majority of the people at the party – meaning they don’t go to his school. Upon closer examination, they all seem to be part of an older crowd. Liam’s not all that surprised, Niall’s just about friends with everyone, and of course he’d get invites to shit like this.

He only takes a couple of sips from the cup, out of boredom than anything else, and so he blames that when he makes eye-contact with Zayn from across the room and a slow blush starts to spread across his cheeks. Liam ducks his head, playing with the hem of his shirt to waste time and when he looks up again, Zayn’s standing in front of him with a crooked little grin.

“Hey,” Zayn says, nodding at Liam.

“Hey,” Liam replies a bit breathlessly but that’s only because Zayn looks _really fucking good_ all the time. He doesn’t know how his friends could stand to be in his presence 24/7.

“You here with Lou?” Zayn asks, taking a sip from his own cup.

“Louis’ here?” Liam asks, feeling a sense of panic well in his stomach because he doesn’t want to see him here, not with Harry or anyone else.

“Yeah,” Zayn says and he’s definitely looking at him weirdly now. “You alright, mate? I’m going for a smoke if you wanna grab some fresh air,” Zayn says, tilting his head towards the backyard.

“Okay,” Liam says and Zayn grabs his wrist, pulling Liam easily through the crowd. And that’s simple enough, Liam doesn’t have to over-think about this.

Zayn lights up as soon as they’re outside and doesn’t offer Liam one. When he catches Liam staring at his pack he says, “Lou would kill me.”

Liam shrugs because he wasn’t going to ask for one anyway. He says, “How long have you been smoking for?” instead to shift the topic away from Louis.

Zayn shrugs, taking a long drag from his cigarette, eyes shutting so his eyelashes sweep against his ridiculous cheekbones. Liam almost laughs because it’s like watching a movie or something, it’s hard to believe Zayn exists in real life.

They’re both leaning against the wall, arms touching in a comfortable silence. Liam rather likes Zayn, he just needs to catch himself from staring at his profile like a moron. But it’s more like he’s in awe that a face like that could exist than anything else. It’s a good distraction.

Somebody literally falls out of the door and into the backyard, tripping over his own feet before pushing himself up. He stumbles over to where they’re standing, already taking huge, gulping breathes in an attempt to quiet his laughter.

“Zayn, oh my god, Zayn, _mate_ , you need to – we need another player,” the guy says, straightening up to grab at Zayn’s arm.

Zayn takes another drag from his cigarette, starting to laugh along at his friend. “Jesus, Danny, what the fuck are you on?” he asks, flicking his cigarette into the night. He shakes his head, getting an arm around him. “Don’t leave - I’ll see you later, yeah?” Zayn asks him, already pulling Danny back into the house.

Liam doesn’t get a chance to reply before they’ve disappeared indoors and he’s left alone again, the cup of whatever Niall’s given him clasped in his hands. He decides to stay out for a little bit, slumping against the wall because he knows he’s going to have to take Niall home sooner or later and he’d rather not spend the entire time waiting for him inside the crowded house, being jostled this way and that.

When Liam finally goes back inside, the music’s still loud as before and the crowd of people keep cheering every now and then. He edges along the wall, trying not to knock into anyone or crash into couples making out when he catches sight of Louis dancing with a girl. They look good together – really good – fitting together perfectly with his hand on her waist. He’s grinning, whispering into her ear and she giggles, looking up at him with stars in her eyes.

His line of vision is suddenly blocked when Zayn appears again and he’s definitely consumed a lot more alcohol from the way his smile’s turned all loose and his eyes are happy moon crescents. He slings an arm around Liam enthusiastically and lands a smacking kiss on his cheek.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks loudly into his ear.

“Um, yeah, I guess? You clearly are,” Liam says, grinning because Zayn’s kind of an adorable drunk.

“S’good! S’all good,” Zayn says, trying to nod seriously and failing. He opens his mouth, pink lips parting before he changes his mind or forgets, giggling into the side of Liam’s neck instead. Liam can’t help but laugh along, only spurring Zayn on further.

“You’re really cute,” he says when he hiccoughs to a stop, poking at Liam’s cheek with a finger.

Liam opens his mouth to respond with a ‘thank you’ because he doesn’t get a lot of people calling him cute and he also doesn’t know the proper response to that. However before he can get the words out, Zayn shoves forward and shuffles until he’s pressing Liam into the wall, body heat seeping through his clothes to rest flush against his own.

“Careful, there,” Liam says in surprise, grabbing his waist to steady him. Zayn only looks up at him in surprise and laughs again.

Liam’s about to ask what’s so funny but Zayn takes the opportunity to close the last few inches between them and kiss him. Liam stays frozen for a moment but then Zayn’s lips start moving against his, sending a jolt down his spine and the realisation he’s _kissing_ Zayn filters through his sluggish brain. The fact that Zayn could pretty much be kissing anyone at the party is repeating itself in Liam’s brain in neon letters and so he opens his mouth under the hot swipe of Zayn’s tongue to try and get it to shut up. Zayn makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat at that, pressing forward to get a better angle to fit their mouths together. Liam’s not sure how long they make out for, just that it’s mind-numbingly great because he’s never kissed anyone like this before, hot and slick, but it doesn’t last when Zayn goes stumbling to the side. Liam’s left to blink stupidly, his lips swollen and parted, at Louis.

“What are you doing?” Louis says but it’s not directed at Liam. He’s still got a hand fisted at the back of Zayn’s t-shirt from where he’d hauled him off Liam.

He lets go and instead shoves at Zayn’s shoulder, his own shoulders tense and spine rigid. It dissipates almost immediately when Zayn turns towards him, giddy with drink. Zayn shrugs and comes at Louis, throwing his arms around his neck and planting a noisy kiss to his nose. Louis wrinkles his nose and pushes at Zayn’s face, dodging Zayn’s attempts to make out with him. He stumbles out of his grasp to pirouette idiotically in front of Liam.

“Y’alright?” he asks and Liam really thinks _he_ should be the one asking that question because Louis doesn’t look entirely sober either. He stumbles slightly, still swaying from the turn and says, “Was he taking advantage of you?” with a little frown on his face.

Liam grabs his arm instinctively and justifies throwing an arm under him as not wanting him to face plant onto the ground. He grabs Louis’ arm and pulls it over his neck and Louis takes that as an invitation to face plant onto his _neck_. Liam makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and starts to lead them out of the house.

“You’re drunk,” is all Liam says, adding with a roll of his eyes, “and _no,_ he wasn’t taking _advantage_.”

“Good,” Louis says into the side of his neck and Liam can feel his lips moving against his skin and it’s _very_ distracting. He knows at this point he should probably get Louis home before he does something he regrets. Like starting a fight with his best friend for what he’s mistaken for Liam’s honour because he’s _such_ a good brother, isn’t he?

Liam leads them out of the house and onto the street, pulling out his phone to call Niall. He’s already got a drunken text from the fucker and Liam takes the time to lift an eyebrow at the fact he’s off to some girls’ house with Harry before shoving it back into his pocket. Their house is only a couple of blocks away from here - Liam thinks he’s could survive that. Maybe.

The night wind is cold against Liam’s skin but Louis’ heat is pressed all along his side, he doesn’t find himself minding all that much. Louis has a hand against Liam’s belly, fingers curled around his t-shirt. He tugs at it to get Liam’s attention, his face still resolutely hidden at the side of Liam’s neck.

“Wait, no, not good,” Louis says, blowing a raspberry into his pulse-point making Liam fumble and almost drop him on the sidewalk.

“Why is that?” Liam says through gritted teeth, grabbing Louis more firmly.

“Because I don’t want you to kiss anyone but me,” Louis mumbles, rubbing his face against Liam’s skin as if he’s trying to console him.

Liam pretty much stops dead in his tracks, his whole body going ramrod straight until he almost drops Louis on the sidewalk again and has to grapple excessively to get him up. Louis makes an unimpressed noise but then he catches sight of Liam’s face, eyes wide open and staring forward, and his whole face crumbles. Louis claps a hand to his mouth belatedly and crinkles his nose, like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. It’d be cute if Liam wasn’t having a mental break-down.

Of course, the logical part of Liam blames the alcohol. Louis had way too much to drink and he’s probably thought he was hanging off Harry or – or – wait, still _what the fuck?_

“Liam, are you mad? Don’t be mad,” Louis says desperately, peering into his face with concern. He’s got his eyebrows drawn up and Liam knows that’s dangerously close to a puppy-dog face and he is having none of that. His heart already feels like it’s going to beat out of his fucking chest – he refuses to deal with Louis’ puppy-dog face right now.

“You’re really _really_ drunk, Lou,” Liam croaks out, his throat dry. He feels dizzy all of a sudden, like the ground’s about to go out from under him because this – this isn’t fair.

He cuts himself off because Louis stumbles forward until he’s backed Liam against the car, in the middle of the bloody street, and cups his face gently in his hands. He sweeps his thumb over Liam’s swollen bottom lip, gaze fixated on it in a way that makes it difficult to breathe. Louis has a little frown on his face, like he can still see Zayn kissing Liam. He pulls slightly on Liam’s bottom lip, releasing it when Liam swallows hard, audible enough to startle Louis out of his trance.

Liam opens his mouth to say, he doesn’t really know what, and only barely escapes certain death when his hold on the car slips. He’s _really_ glad he had enough sense to get his arms around Louis’ waist because that would have been plain embarrassing and he would be missing out on _kissing Louis_ to bleeding out all over the pavement.

Louis doesn’t kiss him like Zayn did, all slick heat and skin; he slides one hand up till it’s resting at the nape of his neck, thumb sweeping over the back of his skull gently. He pulls Liam closer with his other hand, cupping his jaw. Louis presses his lips against Liam’s lips, sweet and lingering and pulls back, his blues eyes bright and hooded.

“Sorry, I just. I just had to,” Louis says quietly, so quiet Liam can barely hear him over the blood rushing through his ears.

Liam doesn’t respond to that, just surges forward to mould their bodies together, fingers scrabbling at his back to pull him closer. He’s not really thinking at this moment, just needs to kiss him again and again. Louis makes a noise in the back of his throat, pushing forward to get Liam up against the side of the car again, shifting so he’s got a leg between his. Liam shoves his hand into the back pocket of Louis’ trousers which is really a feat in itself and tries to propel himself up, get closer to Louis because this is fulfilling so much of his sex dreams right now. Fucking against a car, sex dream #35, fucking in the middle of the street, sex dream #16, kissing Louis, sex dream fucking _all of them_.

“I think I’m taking advantage of you,” Louis says, exhaling through his nose, pulling back with difficulty. Liam keeps his hands where they are, thank you very much, and eagerly shakes his head.

“Nope, don’t feel like I’m being taken advantage of. We should try it again - to make sure.” Liam doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore but he can still taste Louis over beer and he has to run his tongue over his lips to try and get at it again.

Louis’ eyes immediately flicker over down to his lips. “Okay,” is all he says and leans forward again, mimicking him and running his tongue over Liam’s bottom lip.

~

It a miracle that they manage to get home and then they don’t have much energy to do anything but kick off their shoes and fall into Louis’ bed. Louis fall asleep almost immediately, throwing his arms around Liam’s middle and nuzzling into his shoulder like he always does. Liam’s fingers tighten around the sheets and he tries to crawl out of the bed because he would really like to get to the bathroom and have a wank before his head explodes but Louis doesn’t relent, just makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat and tightens his arms around Liam.

Liam glances at Louis and gives up immediately. He stares at him for another minute, just making sure he’s asleep before ducking down quickly and pressing his lips against his forehead, like he hadn’t made out with him against a car an hour ago.

And of course, it takes ages for Liam to fall asleep. The fact that he’s so hard that the material of his pants snagging against his dick is causing him emotional trauma doesn’t even compare to the utter chaos in his brain.

~

When Liam wakes up, the sheets are cool to the touch and Louis is gone. He blinks blearily, struggling into a sitting position to catch a glance at the alarm clock. It’s not even eight am and on a Sunday morning, Louis doesn’t get up until about noon, especially if he’d gone out the night before.

Liam gets out of bed and clambers down the stairs, rubbing his eyes and still in a state of confusion. His body’s not used to sleeping for this long. The smell of pancakes drifts from the kitchen and the smile starts to spread on Liam’s face, anticipation curling in his belly. His palms are clammy and he has to shove them in yesterday’s jeans to avoid wiping them against his shirt over and over again. When he finally walks into the kitchen, Louis spins around in his stupid apron with a huge smile, holding the spatula up in a salute.

“Morning, Payne!” he says cheerfully. He turns around and expertly flips a pancake – the only thing besides cereal he’s capable of making.

Louis is making him peanut butter pancakes and while that makes Liam feel all choked up and stupid inside he knows he only does this when he’s _sorry_ for something. Sorry for having a mother when Liam’s slowly starting to forget his, sorry for ruining his shirt, sorry for coming home too drunk.

“Alright?” Liam asks, sitting down because he’s legs have gone all shaky and abnormal. “What are these for?” Liam says, clamping down on everything he needs to ask Louis now.

“For yesterday,” Louis says, looking at Liam over his shoulder. He turns back around, pre-occupied with the batter, “for getting me home. I was off my fucking face - I don’t even remember how we got back.”

And that’s when it sinks in but Liam realises belatedly he _was_ expecting this because of course Louis doesn’t remember. He was _so_ drunk, Liam knew this and suddenly he’s head is pounding and he needs to take a minute to remember to breathe. The coil of repulsion in his stomach is making it too hard though because it wasn’t _Louis_ taking advantage of Liam, it was _Liam_.

He feels physically sick and he jumps in shock when Louis asks, “Hey – Liam, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Liam says and his throat’s gone dry. He chokes and clears his throat, shaking his head so he doesn’t have to look at Louis’ concerned face. Thankfully, Louis doesn’t reach forward to feel for a temperature because Liam doesn’t know how he’d react. “I’m fine, just, feeling a bit sick after yesterday.”

The scrape of the chair against the kitchen tiles is abnormally loud and it feels the following silence. Liam pushes the plate of pancakes away from him, the smell of it makes him feel sicker and he manages to say, “Thanks for the pancakes. I think I just need to sleep it off or something, I – yeah.”

He doesn’t turn around when Louis calls out his name, his voice apprehensive. Liam shuts the door behind him, slumping against it immediately and focusing his energy on not being sick all over the floor.

~

The worst part of it is, Louis is completely normal and now Liam can barely _stand_ any of it. He forces himself to be normal too but then he can’t stop replaying what happened over and over in his head until the self-resentment makes his ears ring, nails biting into his palms. He’s glad, in a way, that Louis doesn’t remember anything because that means he doesn’t _know_. Liam just needs to keep it that way – he’s desperate in the way he doesn’t want Louis to hate him for the rest of his life or find him despicable and sickening.

He doesn’t stay in the house as much because he has to keep forcing his feet to keep moving past Louis’ bedroom. He has to stop himself from going into Louis room to get him to listen to a new album he’d bought online or a new video he’d seen. Because if he goes into Louis’ room, he’s only going to reminded of things like how having sleepovers every night for the week when their parents were on their honeymoon and they were being looked after by Liam’s nan. And how whenever their parents fought, Louis would hug him tight, shaking his head with a small laugh and reassure him that this was nothing – like he personally knew when there was cause to worry. And it always did blow over, Louis told him this was because they actually loved each other and wouldn’t ever hurt each other, in the same way he’d told Liam not to worry and Liam always believed him.

So Liam spends more time out of the house, with Niall mostly. Niall’s parents _love_ Liam; it’s not that hard to find an excuse to be there more and more every day. He cleans Niall’s room and in return gets to stay in a Louis-free house for the majority of the day. It’s a pretty good deal.

~

Niall and Liam are at the fish and chips shop in town when they bump into Zayn. It’s the first time Liam’s talked to him since the party, actually, and Liam of course fumbles with his change and has to duck down to retrieve them. Zayn follows him, long fingers scrabbling for the coins and handing it to Liam with that crooked smile. Liam straightens up and looks around for Niall but he’s outside, probably making friends with elderly couples who want to adopt him or something.

“Haven’t seen you around,” Zayn says, resting his arm on the counter, effectively trapping Liam into the conversation.

Liam bounces on the balls of his feet and avoids eye-contact for as long as possible before he finally says, “Yeah, been a bit busy, I guess?”

“Well, I thought I should apologise,” Zayn says, completely at ease, “for snogging you at the party. Actually, no, I didn’t have a problem with that but Louis, he was pretty pissed.”

Liam nods, he only knows too well how drunk Louis was, “I know, he was completely out of it.”

“No, I mean he was _pissed –_ upset - that I’d kissed you,” Zayn says, shrugging, tapping his fingers on the counter. He looks at Liam side-ways, through his eyelashes, all sly and slow like he knows something Liam doesn’t and he’s just waiting for the ball to drop.

“He remembers that?” Liam asks, frowning slightly. Zayn nods but the lady comes back with Liam’s food and Niall’s at the door shouting at him to hurry up because he’s hungry.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Zayn says and waves at him. He turns back to the lady with a charming smile and a tilt of his head.

Liam walks out of the fish and chips shop and immediately hands the food over to Niall who rips into it.

“That’s … weird,” Liam says out loud to try and get his thoughts in order.

“Vafs ved?” Niall says through a mouthful of chips. He swallows audibly and repeats, “What’s weird?”

“Nothing,” Liam says, shaking his head.

~

Liam never thought he’d be talking about how he was in love with his step-brother to _anyone_ let alone Niall. But Niall had settled in front of the tellie with a can of soda and a bowl full of crisps and bluntly said, “So you’re in love with your brother, huh?”

“He’s _not_ my brother,” Liam says for what feels like the millionth time, too shocked and numb to say anything else.

“Alright, mate, calm down,” Niall says, shrugging nonchalantly. “So you’ve been in love with your not-brother for how many years now?”

“Niall, why are you doing this?” Liam asks, face-planting onto the cushions. If he knew all along, why couldn’t he just pretend for Liam’s sakes and never mention it ever?

“Because you are _miserable_ ,” Niall says, and pokes him in the side with his toe. “Also, you’re pretty much living at my house, it’s getting a bit extreme.”

“Did you want me to leave?” Liam asks, squirming away from Niall. When he resurfaces, Niall’s just looking at him with an expression screaming _c’mon now_.

“I’m just trying to help. You can’t keep that shit bottled up, you’re going to go crazy – er,” Niall says and chucks a crisp at Liam’s head.

Liam catches it in his mouth and slumps against the arm rest of the couch. “It’s nothing, I’m just – it’ll go away. It _has_ to or,” Liam stops himself and takes a huge gulping breath. “We kissed.”

“ _What_? Jesus, that’s illegal or something, right?” Niall asks and when Liam deadpans at him, he giggles, choking on his crisps a little. “I’m kidding, god, you’re wound up so tight if you tried to fuck Louis right now you’d snap his dick off.”

“Nope, I am not talking to you about this,” Liam says, getting off the sofa.

Niall grabs his wrist and pulls him back down. “Okay, you kissed. So he feels the same way or you wouldn’t have been macking on each other’s faces – what’s the problem?”

Liam sighs heavily and flops back against the sofa again. “He doesn’t remember – he was really drunk.”

“Oh,” Niall says and he definitely sounds sympathetic now. He shifts around so he can throw an arm around Liam’s shoulder and pet his hair. “Maybe that wasn’t the only reason,” Niall says, putting his head down on Liam’s shoulder.

“Don’t say that, Niall, please,” Liam mumbles but doesn’t curl away from Niall, just rests his cheek on his head, exhaling deeply through his nose.

They stay like that for a while and it’s not _okay,_ it’s definitely not okay but it’s better, a bit like Niall’s helped taken a load off his shoulder.

~

Keeping himself busy seems to be the main idea here, from playing footie with Niall to studying in the library. He trains more, gloved fists hitting the punching bag harder and harder until sweat’s rolling down his back and his shirt’s soaked through. It clears his mind for a blessed hour or so and it’s not torturing Niall into an early football-ridden grave.

Liam finally surfaces from the basement, tugging at the end of the hand wrap with his mouth. He wasn’t pathetic enough to try and time his exit to avoid Louis (he did, he just wasn’t successful) but there he, is beer in hand, right next to his dad.

“How’s training going?” his dad asks him, muting the tellie.

Liam spits out the hand wrap and finishes unravelling it with his other hand, taking his time. “It’s going fine.”

“You’re gonna beat the shit out of that other kid,” Louis says, finally tearing his eyes away from the television. He pauses momentarily, looking at Liam with his head cocked to the side. “Whoa, fuck, when did you get taller than me?” he asks, beer held up halfway to his mouth.

“Since he was about 16 you blind little shit,” his dad says, laughing when Louis reaches over and flicks his ear.

Liam wipes the sweat off his forehead, blinking to get the sting out of his eyes and pulls at the shirt sticking to his chest. It’s hot enough in the room without Louis wrapping his lips around the rim of the bottle and taking a swig. He attempts at a smile at the both of them and says, “I’m not going to _beat the shit_ out of him. It’s a match, there are rul-.”

Liam cuts himself off because Louis’ eyes have gone all glazed over and unfocused. They’ve all heard this a billion times. Liam shakes his head because he realises it’s probably a lot more dull listening about boxing then it is to talk about it.

“Anyway, I’m off to the showers. Don’t sprain anything watching the tellie,” Liam says over his shoulder, pulling his shirt off.

He distantly hears Louis drop his beer all over the floor but ignores it in favour of running up to the stairs.

~

It’s different now and Liam doesn’t know why he’s only noticing now (probably because he was drowning in self-pity and angst) but Louis’ definitely acting differently. He’s almost hesitant in the way he acts around Liam but he’s trying not to be, forcing his hand to clamp around Liam’s shoulders and pull him into a hug when he wins his match. Liam doesn’t know what it is, Liam’s probably pushed him too far away, but he’s not going to complain – he’s _not_.

Any excuse to try and distance himself from Louis is welcomed so when Niall calls up, asking him if he wants to go camping with his family, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

Louis’ out of the house so he doesn’t feel awkward grabbing the old sleeping bag from Louis’ room, hoping it’s still got enough filling in it to keep him warm. Liam grabs anything that’s going to keep him warm and throws it into his bag, trusting Niall and his family to bring enough food for all of them.

“I’ll be back in three days and I’ll call you if there’s reception, okay?” Liam says, kissing Jay on the cheek.

“Be safe dear,” she says, patting him on the cheek and goes about stirring her tea. She trusts him too much, honestly, he’s still an eighteen year old boy, the least she could do is _pretend_.

“Bye!” Liam says, hauling his bags out of the house and shutting the door behind him. He pulls out his phone and texts Niall to ask if they’re close yet and almost drops it in surprise when he looks up.

“Liam,” Louis says, stopping dead at the gates. His jaw is slack in shock, his hands stilling on the rusty metal.

“Hey,” Liam says, looking up from his phone and plastering a smile on his face. His throat keeps closing up whenever he tries to talk to Louis as normal as possible so he settles for nodding.

“Don’t go,” Louis says and rushes forward, dropping the milk.

“What? But,” Liam starts but Louis cuts him off again.

“I’m sorry, god, Liam, I’m so fucking sorry,” Louis says and he looks upset, truly upset and not the fake whining he puts on all the time to get Liam to scratch his back or give him a piggy-back ride.

“I – I wasn’t that drunk and that’s no excuse, I know but I’ve just been thinking about - I tried to act like I didn’t remember it and then maybe _you’d_ forget about it and forgive me but it didn’t go away and now you’re moving out-,” Louis says, talking faster than he normally does and pulling on the hem of his shirt. He looks down, frowning at his shoes and when he looks up at Liam he looks devastated and it’s natural for Liam to never want him to look like that ever again.

“You knew,” Liam says, pausing for a moment, “You remember what happened?” Liam asks, overwhelmed by information.

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis says and he sounds miserable, his voice breaking. “You shouldn’t go, _I’ll_ go. I’ve been meaning to move out anyway, I’m almost twenty. I was just being fucking selfish and I wanted to be close to you. Jesus, I’m sorry, I’m such a fucking tit.”

Liam stares at him for a moment, his lips set in a hard line, his shoulder tense. His fingers are clenched tightly and he confirms it for him, “You are such a fucking tit.”

Louis looks up at him in surprise, blue eyes widening because Liam never talks to Louis like that. His face collapses and he looks absolutely heart-broken and Liam tries to keep up his righteous anger because he’s gone through _weeks_ , years actually, of torture and Louis _remembered_ he kissed him. But it dissipates slowly, running through Liam’s fingers like water because, if Liam’s figuring this out properly, this means Louis-

He drops the sleeping bag onto the doorstep and reaches for Louis, curling his fingers around his shoulders. He pulls him in closer and falls forward to kiss him. Their teeth clack and it’s kind of painful but Louis’ murmuring, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” even if it was Liam who’d knocked them together in the first place.

Liam pulls Louis closer, fisting a hand in the cloth of his t-shirt, fingers curling against his back. Louis walks them backwards until Liam’s flush against the door and slowly slides his palm up side of Liam’s neck until he’s shivering and pushing away from the door and into Louis. Louis rolls his hips forward, keeps Liam in place so he can sweep his tongue against the seam of his lips, get Liam to gasp and let his mouth fall slack.

Louis presses his lips the corner of his mouth, over the curve of his cheekbone, standing on his tippy-toes to kiss his temple before resting their foreheads together. From this close, Liam can see each individual eyelash fanning against his skin and he needs to keep clenching and unclenching his hands in Louis’ shirt, his pulse still racing in his ear until everything else falls silent and he can just hear Louis breathing against him.

“I’ve been in love with you,” Liam says, doesn’t specify for how long but he _needs_ to say it.

Louis doesn’t reply but he opens his eyes and they’re crinkled at the corners, the smile not yet reaching his mouth. Liam nudges Louis’ nose with his own, splaying his fingers out against the small of his back.

They break apart when a car honks, Louis stumbling over the sleeping bag until Liam grabs his hand to steady him. They both turn to see Niall and his parents waiting for Liam in their car, Niall’s fist half-way up in a confused victory fist-pump.

“I’ve gotta go. I’m not,” Liam says and takes a deep shuddering breath, letting out a shaky laugh, “I’m just going camping with Nialler.”

He’d rather much stay here and snog Louis some more but after the last few months, Liam might need a couple more days by himself before they can sort through all this shit. Liam rocks forward on his heels and presses a kiss to the bow of Louis’ lip and lets go of Louis’ hand, fingers going slack.

Louis doesn’t let go though, tightens his grip before Liam can go and says, “I love you too.”

Liam almost drops his sleeping bag again, heart in his throat, feeling choked up and overwhelmed. “I’ll be back in three days,” he promises and Louis nods, letting go of his hand with a little smile.

Niall helps Liam get his shit into the trunk and Liam says, “He’s _not_ my brother,” and gets in the car. Liam turns in his seat and waves to Louis, still standing in the doorstep with dented bottle of milk by his feet. Louis presses his hand to his mouth and waves back, still smiling that quiet little smile that’s always just for Liam.


End file.
